


the thing with buttplugs and brownlows

by orphan_account



Category: Australian Rules Football RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub Undertones, Intoxication, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and his footballer boyfriend at the AFL's night of nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the thing with buttplugs and brownlows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charliebrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebrown/gifts).



> so, erika said something about drunk fev and harry and brownlow shenanigans, and I wrote 2K of ridiculous brownlow smut with too many run-on sentences that will probably make no sense to humans who a) aren’t Australian, and b) don’t know who fev is. sorrynotsorry.

 

Harry really,  _really_  wants a drink. It’s not like there’s anything to do at the Brownlow ceremony if you’re not in with a chance of winning, but Harry’s been on the edge of his seat all night. His bottom lip feels raw where he’s been worrying it with his teeth, but he thinks he’s done a pretty good job of acting normal. He’s been all smiles on the red carpet, he’s answered the same question about who he’s wearing over and over, he’s jumped a foot in the air after Barry bloody Humphries pinched his bum, entirely too close for comfort. He’s done his time hiding by the bar, trying to avoid some of the AFL WAGs who coo over his accent and fuss with his hair and generally treat him like he’s some kind of exotic bird.

 

Now they’ve moved onto the charming portion of the evening that follows the actual presentation, where everyone partakes in the quaint Australian tradition of getting not-so-quietly shitfaced. Harry’s beer is sweating in his hand, though, almost completely full as his fingers go white with tension on the neck of the bottle. He’s standing, frozen, as the man next to him mugs for the  _Footy Show_  cameras, one hand on the swell of Harry’s ass. The problem isn’t the cameras, his idiot boyfriend innuendo-ing at Billy Brownless, or even the beer that’s just been sloshed over his favourite boots for the umpteenth time this evening. No, the problem is the hand.

 

Fev’s hand, to be exact.

 

Brendan Fevola's wide palm and long fingers, spreading across most of Harry’s ass, giving him a good squeeze. Harry makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, hopes his vague smile comes of as  _really fucking sloshed_  rather than  _really fucking turned on_.

“What about you, Harry?” Billy asks, gesturing with both microphone and Crown Lager. “You having a good night?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, although it comes out a bit strangled as Fev’s fingers move to tap lightly between his cheeks. “S’gre- _great_.”

The last word is definitely a squeak, and Fev smirks at him, leans in to give him a big smacking kiss on the cheek. “It’s a great night, Billy,” he says.

 

The reason for Harry’s distress is the solid steel plug currently residing in his ass. It’s not the biggest they own, and it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but tonight is the longest he’s ever worn it. The weight of it keeps the three inches of metal inside flush against his rim, meaning that every time he sits or moves or accidentally runs into something or his asshole boyfriend squeezes his ass or taps the shiny, polished base tucked between his cheeks, it moves inside him. The muscle of his ass clenches tight around the point between plug and base, and the weight of it shifts inside him, just barely grazing his prostate.

 

Brownless says something before he moves away, but Harry misses it, hearing only Fev’s voice in his ear. “ _Been teasing me all night_ ,” he says.

“ _I’ve_  been teasing-“ Harry starts, cutting himself off when the cameraman looks at him oddly. Harry’s suddenly grateful the little red light is off, Brownless moving on to his next drunken vox-pop victim.

“I’ve been teasing?” he repeats once they’re alone. As alone as you can get next to a ballroom full of people, footballers and girlfriends and managers and coaches and staff milling about in the bar area just outside.

“You and your bloody  _lip_ ,” Fev says, voice low in his ear, and Harry’s tongue snakes out to trace along his bottom lip.

“Tease,” Fev says. His fingers press at the plug again, hard and insistent, and Harry almost bites down on his lip again, but Fev brings his other hand up to trace where the skin is red and slightly swollen. “By the time I’m done with you, that pretty little hole of yours is going to be as wrecked as this.”

“Please,” Harry says. “Please, Fev, I’ve been waiting all night.”

“Hmmm,” Fev says. “I think you can wait a bit longer.”

 

Harry really  _can’t,_ because his suit trousers only do so much to disguise the fact that he’s hard, cock tucked up under the waistband of his pants, and wasn’t  _that_  a fun bit of manoeuvring underneath the table in the ballroom, a camera on the other side of the table for reaction shots during the ceremony. But Fev moves his hand to Harry’s hip and they do a slow loop of the bar to say their goodbyes, hugs and handshakes and backslaps and air kisses and every step is an exercise in delicious, frustrating torture.

 

Eventually, though, there are no more drunken WAGs wanting to make plans, no footballers gesturing with beers that end up on Harry’s boots, and Harry finds himself being steered to the nearest elevator. He’s suddenly very grateful they have a room in the casino. He really doesn’t think he’d survive a taxi ride to Fev’s bed. He’s been feeling the slow burn of arousal ever since Fev bent him over the bathroom counter and worked the plug inside of him. Five hours later, his cock is hard against his belly and his rim is oversensitive, clenching uncontrollably around the unyielding plug inside of him. Crown Casino apparently has the longest corridors in the world, but Fev stays silent as they make their way to the room, and if the way he handles the room key is any indication, he’s a lot more sober than he’d been letting on downstairs. Fev opens the door and gestures for Harry to enter first.

 

The room is dim, only a single lamp left on from when they headed downstairs earlier, but Harry doesn’t waste time looking at the room, turns to face Fev, who’s leaning back against the door.

“On your knees,” Fev says, voice rough, undoing his suit pants so he can tug his cock free. Harry just  _drops,_ graceless in a way that’s going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow, the ache already settling in as he knees forward until he’s close enough to reach out and touch. The movement jostles the plug inside him, pressing it firmly against his prostate as Harry comes to rest on his heels. His mouth drops open around a moan he’s got no chance of keeping in, utterly wanton. 

 

Fev takes hold of his chin, stepping forward to take advantage of Harry’s open mouth. His boyfriend’s cock is heavy on his tongue as he feeds it to Harry, deep even on the first thrust.

“There you go, pretty,” Fev says. “S’what you’ve been wanting all night, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question, but Harry makes a noise in response regardless, throat fluttering around the head of Fev’s cock, needy and desperate. He clenches his hands into fists against his thighs, aching to touch himself, to just free his cock from the confines of his suit pants. But he doesn’t have permission, and he wants to come tonight, knows he can be good. If he’s good, maybe he’ll be allowed. He uses his tongue the best he can, Fev’s hand on his jaw as leverage as he fucks Harry’s throat. He’s just getting into the rhythm of his breathing when Fev pulls him back by his hair, and he makes a noise at that, more at the sudden loss of weight on his tongue than the pain in his scalp. But Fev is leaning down to kiss him, mouth hot and hungry as he licks the taste of himself out of Harry’s mouth.

 

When Fev pulls away Harry’s mouth is tingling, suddenly bereft, and he can’t move, mouth slack and open. Fev reaches down to take himself in hand, jacking himself once, twice, and Harry feels as if he’s somehow pinned there, on his knees on expensive carpet.

“ _Please_ ,” he says.

“On the bed,” Fev says. “Clothes off.”

Harry’s fingers are clumsy on his buttons, but eventually he shrugs out of his shirt, taking a deep breath before he climbs to his feet, plug shifting inside of him as he moves. He’s trying to get his tight trousers off without bending over when he turns around to see Fev, naked from the waist down but still wearing his unbuttoned shirt, sprawled out on the bed. He’s leaning back against the mass of pillows at the headboard, jacking himself slowly.

“Come on then,” he says, and Harry shoves his pants down, kicks off his shoes and socks. He knees his way onto the bed, and Fev reaches out to curl a large hand around his hip and moving him into position, straddling Fev’s hips.

 

Two fingers press hard at the base of the plug, jamming it directly against his prostate. Harry gasps and loses his balance, falling forward and catching himself with a hand slapped down on Fev’s chest. “Oh god,” he says.

Fev chuckles. “So responsive, baby.”

“Please,” Harry says.

“Please  _what_?”

“Please  _sir_ ,” Harry says, gritting his teeth as the plug is pressed deep inside him again, the base flush against his rim. “Please fuck me.”

“I am,” Fev says, tugging the plug out so the widest part stretches his rim open, only to push it back in after a moment.

“With your  _cock_ ,” Harry says. If he doesn’t get properly fucked soon he’s going to  _scream_. Is it possible for someone to actually die of sexual frustration?

 

Fev laughs, and tugs the plug out of him. The movement is gentle, but Harry whines at the stretch, the feeling of nothing between his cheeks strange after so many hours. Fev pauses to slip two fingers inside, tracing the swollen flesh of his rim, a sensation that disappears as soon as Harry moves, trying to rock the fingers deeper.

“Come on then,” Fev says, moving his hand to Harry’s hip. “Show me how much you want it.”

Harry narrows his eyes at the man below him, and lets his weight force Fev’s cock inside of him. He takes it in one slippery push that knocks the breath out of him, eyes slipping closed as he settles his ass down against Fev’s pelvis.

“Is that it?”

Harry cracks an eye open to glare at the man beneath him. Fev just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Guess you didn’t want it that much after all,” he says, and he moves his hands away from where they had been on Harry’s hips.

“No,” Harry says quickly, tightens up deliberately around the hard cock inside him. “I want it, I do."

 

He lifts himself up shakily, thighs burning already as he lets himself drop back down, Fev’s cock pressing deep. On the next thrust Fev thrusts up to meet him, the movement graving the head of his dick over Harry’s prostate. Harry has to pause a moment, unable to lift himself back up straight away as pleasure rolls over him like a wave. Fev shifts, lifting his knees so he can plant his feet flat on the bed. His new leverage means he can fuck up into Harry harder, hammering relentlessly at his prostate.

“Ungh,” Harry says, head dropping back.

“This what you wanted, pretty?”

“Yes,” he says, fingers curling where they’re pressed against Fev’s chest for balance. He still hasn’t been given permission to touch himself, and Fev grins at the movement.

“Do you think you deserve to come, baby? You were an awful tease all night."

“You liked it,” Harry says, cheeky, and watches as Fev’s expression goes hard.

 Fev slams in hard one last time, and then he’s lifting Harry up and off, pulling  _out_ , leaving Harry to mewl at the absence, hole empty for the first time in hours.

 

“ _No_ ,” he says as he feels Fev’s weight shift on the bed under him. “ _Please_ , come back-"

 “Shh, pretty,” Fev says. “Gonna give you what you need. Hands and knees.”

Harry almost sobs in relief, nearly kicking Fev in the balls as he scrambles to do as he’s been ordered. What it is about this man, equal parts rude and charming both, that makes him so bloody  _desperate_ , he doesn’t know. The fact that Fev is strong enough to heft him up and fuck him against the wall helps, and Harry’s always been attracted to assholes, cocky men who knew what they wanted, and how to get it out of him - but why  _this_  man? His musings come to an abrupt end as Fev settles beside him on the bed, a thumb tracing the rim of his hole, sensitive after so many hours. The digit disappears before Harry can beg, and Fev thrusts forward, bottoming out in one deep, smooth glide.

“There you go,” Fev says, hands tightening on Harry’s hips. “That’s what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it baby?”

“Yes,” Harry says, head dropping forward, chin on his chest as he rocks forward with the motion of another thrust. His own cock is hard and wet against his belly, flushed and neglected.

Fev’s thrusts are hard and fast, Harry’s knees slipping on the expensive sheets. He’s going to end up braining himself on the headboard or something equally clumsy if this continues, fingers curling in the sheets as he pushes desperately back. He hears Fev’s breath hitch, and thinks  _oh god please-_

  
_“_ Touch yourself,” Fev says. “Want you to come for me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

Harry sobs, bracing himself with his left arm as his right hand reaches down to brush against his cock. His touch is entirely too much sensation, He tightens his fingers, thumbing at the head of his cock before starting to jack himself off, fast and almost painful after being aroused for so long. Fev’s thrusts are short and choppy now, losing his careful rhythm, but he’s nailing Harry’s prostate almost without fail, and it’s only another one, two, three thrusts before Harry is groaning, feeling himself clench around Fev’s cock, coming all over his hand.

“There you go,” Fev says, voice betraying how close he is to losing control, and he slams home once more before he’s pulling out, entirely too fast a movement for Harry’s sensitive insides. Harry's arm gives out and he folds in on himself, hissing as his oversensitive cock rubs against the sheets, come still dribbling out.

Fev swears, and Harry feels warm ropes of come against his lower back, the head of Fev’s cock brushing against his ass as if to make sure it all falls onto Harry’s skin. Harry’s breath whistles out between his teeth, Fev a heavy weight settling next to him after a moment a thumb tracing the puffy rim of his hole.

 

“So,” Fev says, voice a rumble Harry can feel against his back, “how was your night?" 


End file.
